The Visitor
by goj
Summary: OUTDATED AND ON INDEFINITE HIATUS-archived for storage
1. Prison

She had never been alone in her life—at least, not until the humans took her. They came, destroyed everything, hauled her away. Their home was burned, her children killed…

And now she was here.

She wasn't entirely sure where "here" was, only that it was dark, and cold, and she couldn't move more than a few paces in any given direction. They'd had her legs chained to the floor, cuffed both her sets of arms. Her tail was restrained in a similar fashion, held by a thick rope to the ceiling. The restraints made it hurt to move; but that didn't matter, since she'd lost the will to try.

She hated it here.

Food came rarely, sometimes not at all. When it did, it was disgusting: rotted meat and dirty water were all she'd eaten in the past months (years?) since she'd been whisked away to Hell. But she wouldn't have minded, if her children had been with her. No, she wouldn't have minded one bit. But it hurt to think of those things now, because they were all gone and they were not coming back.

The humans had cut her link to them, somehow. So many had been killed-_so, so many_-but she knew not all of them could have died. She had made especially sure to protect a clutch of young hatchlings from the humans' fire. She remembered it, yes; remembered their panicked cries, remembered the searing heat of fiery tongues licking at scarred chitin. Where were they now? She missed the touch of their little minds, purring and happy among those of her Hive.

They should have been safe there. But she couldn't protect them. They must be full-grown now, confused, afraid… It was her fault. All her fault.

So she sat; miserable, alone, and rotting in her own thoughts.

XXX

A human came in to her cell, one day. The light from the opening door nearly blinded her, used to the darkness as she was. She drew back her lips, baring her needlelike teeth in a growl and partially extending her inner mouth. She wasn't very intimidating anymore, but she wouldn't let the intruder know she'd given up.

He smiled his ugly human smile, pulled out a tranquilizer gun. She knew what was coming, and lowered her head in reluctant submission. They had come for samples again.

To her surprise, the human withdrew his gun, tossed her a sack full of meat. It was fresh. Was it feeding time already? It couldn't possibly have been that long.

She was starving., but she couldn't let him see her give in. She turned her head away, her stomach screaming in protest all the while. The human smirked, nudged the meat towards her with the butt of the gun. She pretended to ignore it, giving a low roar to shoo the human away. He scowled.

"Fine then, bitch. Don't eat, for all I care. But the boss can't say I didn't do my job." He turned around, walked out the door, and left her in comfortable darkness. She sighed in relief.

As soon as the door hissed closed, she shot out her inner mouth, grabbing a chunk out of the sack and devouring it in a single bite. Oh, she was starving. She knelt, grabbing the sack. Not even bothering with her inner mouth, she wolfed down the remains of her rations. It didn't fill the void in her stomach, but it was better than nothing.

XXX

Her wrists were starting to chafe. She was glad. Maybe they would bleed, and she could be free.

XXX

Despite her confinement and despite her willing it not to, her body continued to function. It was times like these when she was at her worst—tired, hungry, and in heat. Her body wanted so badly for her to lay the carriers, but she did not have enough nutrition on which to do so. She couldn't even make an egg sac, let alone the eggs to fill it with.

She wanted to, though. She wanted to bear children, and for her children to take her captors' bodies and leave them for dead. But she couldn't.

She hated herself.

XXX

It was feeding time again. She was pleasantly surprised. So soon? The light hurt, but they brought her a whole pig this time, so she had that meager comfort. It wasn't nearly enough to fill her, but she was so hungry she didn't even bother with her nonchalant façade. She didn't care anymore. Ripping and tearing into an animal, even dead, felt too good. Reminded her of freedom.

She missed the outside.

This time the human was a female. She seemed very afraid, but the Mother didn't care. She hissed at the woman, baring her teeth and letting the saliva dribble down her chin as she tore at the flesh. Blood spattered on the ground. The woman squeaked, held her gun close. Inside, the Mother laughed, for the first time in too long.

XXX

Today, there was "combat evaluation". The shackles came off, but there were guns all around. A few humans held grenades. She decided it would be best not to fight them when they were so heavily armed.

They led her to another room, much larger this time. It smelled like the liquid they used to clean her cell. The large doors slammed shut behind her, and she was once again in complete darkness. She stretched her arms and lashed her tail, enjoying the lack of restraints, and waited. What was she to engage in "combat" against?

As if in answer to her question, a creature emerged from the darkness. It wasn't very tall, compared to her, but looked to have thick skin and powerful limbs. A set of four curved horns atop its head and a short neck led her to the assumption that the creature was built for charging. It smelled strongly of blood and sweat—the humans', mixed with its own.

The creature examined her closely. Looking for signs of weakness, no doubt. She would give it none. It reared on its hind legs and roared, landing back on all fours with impact that shook the ground. After its arrogant display, she couldn't help but respond, swiping at the air with her four arms and lowering her head to give the creature a full view of her enormous crest.

It charged.

She sidestepped it, shifting her huge body around and slamming back into it full force. It squealed in pain, but got up and began circling her, waiting for her next move.

She hissed, striking at the creature with her tail. It jumped back, growling, and charged again, this time hitting her square in the leg. She staggered, swiping at it with her primary arms and managing to give it a nasty gash on the back. It bled profusely. She smelled it.

She was hungry. So hungry.

In a sudden burst of rage, she snatched the creature out of its run, shooting out her inner mouth to pierce its skull. Its blood filled her. It screamed in agony.

She was happy.

Off came the creature's skin, cut by her bladed tail. Off came its fat, all into her mouth. Out came guts and muscle and sinew, to meet the same fate. Food, food, food. She loved food.

Still, she was hungry. She was always hungry.

XXX

They weren't happy with her behavior in the "combat evaluation", so they locked her up again. They would have done that anyway, she reasoned. They had no intention of freeing her any time soon, no matter how obediently she behaved. She heard them, knew they were watching her through the reinforced glass window of her cell, discussing what to do next.

She had come to understand the basic meaning of their words after her long time here, and so heard one suggest killing her. She scoffed, insulted-as if they could. She was a vicious fighter. But another human agreed, saying they should dissect her. Her blood was too dangerous, another said. Too many would be hurt.

Then all went silent, and she heard footsteps. A deep, male voice began to speak.

"What's going on? How is the Queen?"

Queen. Somehow she didn't think human "Queens" were treated so poorly.

"The bitch is livid, Davis. Ripped apart the Visrhin we sent in yesterday. Ate it alive."

"Is she fed?"

"She'll survive."

She doubted it, and let them know with a low growl.

"She doesn't seem too happy there, Lefner. "

"You said she didn't have to be, Davis." The voice paused. "Why are we even keeping her here? We're not exactly making any breakthroughs on their biology. Bitch can't even lay anymore."

"That would be classified information you're inquiring about, Lefner. Need I remind you of your position? You were very close to activating clause 88C of your employment agreement last week."

"N-no, sir."

"Good. Now feed it. I'm not going to have a dead Queen on our hands thanks to your neglect. "

"Yes, sir."

The noises stopped. Some time later, the doors were opened again, and this time she heard snorts and squealing. Live prey? Excluding the combat evaluation, she hadn't had such a treat in a while.

Another young Visrhin was shoved into the room. It cowered before her as she stood to full height. She snapped its neck without hesitation and ripped greedily at the meat. It tasted even better than it had the day before. After she finished, she gnawed at the bones, savoring the last of the flesh-taste until it was gone.

She wasn't hungry any more, but she was very tired. She curled up and fell asleep, as satisfied as she could possibly be in such a horrible place. Without the gentle touch of her children's minds, sleep was all she had left.

XXX

_Warm, dark, tight. A wet noise went _thump-thump-thump _inside and outside and all around her. She liked that noise. It was all she could hear, there in her cocoon. She wiggled her tiny arms, pressing lightly against the walls. The_ thump-thump-thump _got faster. She liked her cocoon. _

_But she couldn't move. It was too tight. She needed to get out. _

_She bit and struggled and writhed, shoving her head past layer after squishy layer of wall. The _thump-thump-thump _was so fast now, so loud! It shook her as she pushed, but she kept going. _

_With a final _rrrip_ and a horrifyingly loud scream from her cocoon, she was free. The world was so big, though! Frightened, she gave a scream of her own. _

_She was alone, she thought, with her tiny mind. All alone in the great big world. But she wasn't alone-there were shadows overhead, though her vision wasn't adjusted well enough to see them. There were a lot of them, whatever they were; all murmuring in some foreign tongue that she had no intention to learn._

_She could feel heat from them. They were very much alive. She heard their breaths. They sounded ragged, irregular, tired. She was tired, because she had just fought to live. Why were they tired?_

_She knew this was the part where she ran away. The dream skipped this part, because it was a dream and dreams make a habit of being capricious. __A flash of light and she was on the ceiling, panting heavily and weighed down by a large, gelatinous presence underneath her tail._

_"Bless Mother, bless Mother!" said voices from below. Her first generation. "Look how she lays the carriers!"_

_Her body heaved with each deposit, a deep ache that rumbled through her and gave her a shiver down her dream-spine. It hurt to lay, she noticed. It shouldn't have hurt, that meant bad things. But each egg required more and more effort, until she felt she might burst. Her children were frightened, but what could they do to help her? _

_Nothing. The spectators stood helpless as their Mother groaned in pain. Her breathing was shallow and labored—her heart was hammering harder than she even thought it could—oh, it hurt, it hurt so much—_

_The egg sac was gone, and she was in the humans' cell, alone. She was bleeding, but the floor didn't burn underneath. Why was that? _

_It was very dark. She was so alone. She bled. _

_The Mother died. _

XXX

She woke with a jolt, clattering her chains and smacking her head against the wall. Her heart still pounding, she sat up, breathing deeply.

Did she just dream of her own _birth_? She was accustomed to nightmares, had gotten them frequently since her capture, but... That one was new. She shook her head, snorting in a mix of frustration and amusement. She was going mad, she reasoned. Remembering such long-ago things should be impossible for her, even if she _was_ relatively young for a Mother.

She had been so small, so confused…

But that was past her, wasn't it? She was huge, she was strong, and she would crush them beneath her feet like ants should she get free. _When _she got free. She could only hope the opportunity would come soon. Giving her massive head a definitive shake, she settled down to try and fall back to sleep.

Before she could, the door opened, shocking her out of her thoughts. Footsteps clink-clanked on the metal floor. They were light, though—very light footsteps, and there was only one set. There were no voices talking about her imminent demise, no scientific nonsense being thrown back and forth in irritating high-pitched barks. Something was amiss. Chained up as she was, she couldn't do anything but sit and wait for the human outside to act.

"What a weird place! Look at all these buttons!" The voice was even smaller than the footsteps. She wasn't quite sure what that meant.

A sudden _beep_ echoed through her cell, and the locked steel door hissed open. Was the human planning on taking her to combat evaluations? Surely it knew that just one of them would not be able to hold her back? Oh, well. It was to her benefit. The soft footsteps got closer, and closer, until she could see a figure in the near-blinding light of the main room. It was small. Too small.

A human whelp, clutching a toy, stood in the entryway to the Queen's cell.

**A/N: Thank you for reading! I'll try to upload weekly. I would love it if you'd leave a review-constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!**

**3/4/14: Major edits made today for Chapter 1, mostly to maintain consistency in later ones for plot points I hadn't yet come up with. Reread it!**


	2. Contact

The child didn't move. The Mother did. With a heaving sigh, she stood and took what few steps the chains would allow. The whelp squeaked slightly as she leaned her massive head down to examine it, the kind of tiny noise that _prey_ so often made.

It was shivering. She wasn't surprised.

She ignored the whelp's fearful cringe as she shifted closer, extending a hand to push it gently forward. It clutched its toy tightly as she did so. Its dark, curly hair caught on her finger as she removed her hand; she shook it off with a chuff of disapproval. She had never understood the purpose of humans' incomplete pelts—were they for warmth or decoration? Both? The whelp looked uncomfortable with her probing. It didn't matter. This one was intruding on territory that was (albeit forced upon her) _hers_; she'd be damned if she didn't give it a thorough examination.

The child looked up at her, brown eyes wet and squinty, making muffled fear-cries as it clutched its toy close, Pathetic, just like the rest of its kin. Though its kin were the ones that had captured her. Wouldn't that make _her _twice as pathetic?

She hissed to herself, clenching and unclenching all four fists in frustration. No. _They_ were at fault. She couldn't help being overpowered, they had guns and explosives and gas, and those shots that made her sleep! How could she stand up to something like _that?_

A high-pitched squeal from the child brought her back to the present. It was backed against the wall, cowering to avoid the blows it thought she would deal. But the Mother had no need for senseless violence. Slaughtering a hatchling wouldn't set her free. Though some violence would certainly be nice. How would it feel, for its parents to come and find their precious child dead on the floor? Just like they'd done to her—

No. She would not indulge in cold-blooded revenge. It would solve nothing.

Instead, she leaned down, easing open her jaw and letting the child's scent flood her senses. It was female. Very young. Very afraid. It smelled slightly familiar, of sugar and medicine.

Having finished her analysis, the Mother went back to her corner and sat, curling her tail around herself. The whelp wasn't worth killing, she reminded herself. No use spoiling herself with mindless maiming. She wouldn't be the dumb animal they thought she was. She laid her head down to rest, because she had no use for the pup and nothing else worth her while. Maybe the child would go away if left alone.

It didn't. Footsteps pattered on the metal floor, gradually picking up speed as the child gained confidence. She came closer until the Mother could feel warm breath on her carapace. What a persistent little brat. A tiny hand reached out to touch her, but that was where she drew the line. Spitting in warning, she shifted position so her crest blocked the hatchling's view. Couldn't she be alone in her misery?

Apparently not. It sat down at her hip; plush rabbit ears brushed against her skin, and frizzy hair caught again on one of her smaller spurs. She shook it off with a grunt.

"You're really big," the child said. "And kinda scary."

_I know_, thought the Mother.

"Do you have a name? Can you talk?"

_None of your business,_ thought the Mother.

The child glanced down at the chains around her wrists and ankles.

"Why do they have you all locked up?"

She was sick of questions. She growled sharply, this time extending her inner mouth for emphasis. The child flinched, but didn't seem fazed. Where had its fear gone? Wasn't it afraid?

The child opened its mouth to pester her again, but presumably thought better of it and stayed quiet. It rubbed a finger along the spines of her tail. She dismissed the touch with a quick flick, making sure to show it the sharpened bone at the end. It got the message and withdrew its hand.

It was quiet, then, for a good long time. The girl didn't seem to want to leave, perhaps enthralled by the fact that something so large and powerful could be so thoroughly dominated by its kind. The humans were always proud that way. They didn't hunt for sustenance or necessity; they did it for sport. She had always supposed she was just another one of their trophies. Regardless of what it was thinking, eventually the child's breathing grew slow, and the Mother felt a slight weight on her thigh. The girl had fallen asleep.

The Mother snorted, half in amusement and half in annoyance. The girl's casual behavior around her was almost insulting. But it was so small, so fragile, couldn't know any better; and she would be better off without any more blood on her hands, at least for now. She let it sleep. Soon, she fell asleep as well, to the sound of little snores.

XXX

_There were her children, and then there was the rest of the world—that was how things were for the Mother. Everything else was foreign, unwelcome. _

_She had never left her Hive ever since she'd formed it, and even then she'd always been accompanied by her guard. They were big, strong, perfectly capable of fending for themselves and for others, but still her children, her babies. It was strange, the way that Mothers thought. But she didn't care. They were her friends, always looking out for her. Sometimes, they wouldn't eat, just to give her what food they could. She always appreciated their generosity._

_The children left, many times, on hunting trips. Their mental link was weak then, but through it they sent pictures of lush forests and steep cliffs, raging rivers and blue-grey skies. They sent the adrenaline of the hunt and the surging pride of the kill. She felt it, just as much as they did. She had no need to wish for freedom, because she had all she would ever need. _

_With her were the carriers, incubating in their eggs. They were not family, not really—they were short-lived servants existing only to impregnate hosts and expand the Hive—but, even so, their small minds were ample company. Every time she felt one die, she knew a new mind would soon come into the world, fresh and young and _family.

_She was happy. They were all happy. It was bliss, in their simple little world with their simple little lives. She never wanted it to end. _

XXX

She awoke to the sound of humans screaming.

Normally that wouldn't have been a bad thing—more food and more hosts for the Hive—but these ones were screaming for an entirely different reason. Their voices still held the same note of panic, but they were barking out the same word, over and over and over again.

"Lucy! Lucy!"

"Where are you? Lucy!"

The sudden onslaught of noise brought a sharp pain to her head. The child shifted on her thigh, giving a slight moan.

"Where is the little brat? We've checked everywhere!"

"God_damn_, Wilson, you were supposed to be watching her! Davis's gonna fire us both!"

"Shaddup, will you? We need to find her before we can play the blame game."

"So where haven't we checked?"

A moment of sweet silence.

"…Oh, _shit_."

"You're kidding me. Really? Of all places?"

"Shut it, man, the bitch might be asleep. Let's just get in, grab the kid, and get out…"

"If the kid's still _alive_, that is. Your watch, your funeral."

"Shhh-shhh-shh. Let's go."

Then came the sound of a button being pushed. The observation room door opened with a loud clank, making the child—Lucy?—stir again. Her eyes fluttered open and she stretched lazily.

"What happened?" Lucy asked. "Did I fall 'sleep?"

The Mother silenced her with a quiet moan, and then laid her head down to feign unconsciousness. She sure as hell wasn't going on reduced rations for this.

"Still sleepy? Okay." Lucy yawned and hopped to her feet, gathering up her toy and patting the Mother on the crest. Despite her best efforts to conceal her discomfort (lest the humans see her move on the security camera), she couldn't help but shake in her chitin. She tried showing Lucy her disapproval with a low growl, but the child wasn't paying attention. Her eyes were fixed on the door…

…which hissed open, revealing the two inept whitecoats that had left her there.

"Hello, Cedric! Hello, Wilson!" The girl gave them that bizarre bared-teeth-no-snarl expression, and a little wave of the hand.

The two looked awkwardly at each other, then at the girl. One was visibly shaking. Afraid of the Mother? Good.

"…Hello, Lucy," one said. "What are you doing in here? We could all get in a _lot of trouble_."

"I was just exploring! This place's so big! I didn't know we had a dragon!"

Dragon? What was that? Was the whelp referring to her?

"…Yeah, kid. Dragon, right. Let's get you out of here."

"Okay, coming!" Lucy hop-skipped over to the two males, toy in hand. As they exited her cell, the girl turned around and waved. "Goodbye, Miss Dragon! Nice meeting you!"

The door slammed shut.

The Mother, left in darkness once more, curled up again to sleep. It suddenly seemed much colder on her metal floor.

_Goodbye_, she thought. _Nice meeting you._

**_A/N: Editing this chapter as well for consistency! Reread to catch up!_**


	3. Lucy

Lucy was very much grounded. For the next month, in fact, her Papa had said. She shouldn't have gone in to see the Queen, her Papa had said. It was very-very dangerous and she didn't know what she was doing, Papa had said. Papa said a lot of things. Most of them she didn't understand. She said them right back to Bunny sometimes, in her deepest voice, all stuffy and mad and pointing her finger in Bunny's face. Bunny didn't seem to like it very much. But neither did she, and she had to deal with it, so Bunny would too. Yelling made her feel better.

Why wasn't she allowed to see the dragon (Queen? No, dragon.) that they had in the dark room? Miss Dragon was so pretty! So scary, too, but very cool. Dragons were always cool, she supposed, because she had never seen a boring dragon and doubted she ever would. But this one was especially cool. It was like Miss Dragon was—what was the word? "Lurking?" Yes, "lurking" was it. A big, growly dragon, lurking in a cave!

She made Bunny do a big roar, and hopped into her bed. It wasn't very comfy, but she'd rather be here with Papa than back home with Auntie Susan. Auntie Susan wasn't much fun, and she never let Lucy have any cookies.

Papa wouldn't let her have cookies either, she thought, now that she was very-much grounded.

Maybe the dragon wanted cookies! Maybe that's why she was so mad. Lucy flopped onto her back, bouncing Bunny off her pillow with a sigh. Poor dragon, all locked up. Was she grounded, too?

XXX

The Mother had had enough. She had been sick and tired of her situation as long as she had been in it, but now she was thirsty for blood.

She didn't know when this revelation had come upon her, but suddenly she was a bit angrier when the humans gave her smaller rations, had to stop herself from screaming when they threw her their little gibes. Every one of them seemed so much more insulting.

That wouldn't help her get out, though. Anger had never helped her. She needed a real plan. She wasn't stupid enough to think that all she needed was to break her chains. There would be armed guards, many of them. She could barrel through as many of their metal projectiles as she pleased, but the larger, explode-ier ones would pose a much greater challenge. She had no idea how to navigate the place, either—if she left even one human alive while she fumbled around looking for an exit, it would call for reinforcements and she'd be killed.

She needed help.

The only one around who was incapable of killing her was—

No, no, no, there was no way that would work. Even if the security was low enough that the girl got in again, there was no guarantee she could be convinced to help, let alone competent enough to do the job.

But it was her only chance.

How could she get the girl to come back? Feigning illness would only draw the attention of the medical team, being aggressive would only get her a death sentence. The whitecoats would never just conveniently bring along a little girl to a cell holding something as dangerous and powerful as she, even locked up as she was.

She would have to sit, and she would have to wait; hopefully, the child would come back on her own somehow.

The Mother was sick and tired of waiting.

XXX

Papa didn't like the dragon.

Lucy could tell because he still seemed mad that she had gone to visit her. She asked, "why can't I see the dragon, Papa?" but he didn't answer, not really. He just told her that it was a bad idea and he couldn't trust her to have "free reign" to run around the facility anymore.

Was he going to send her back to Auntie Susan's? She hoped not.

But it was so boring being grounded! She needed to run around, she needed to play! Frustrated, she stood up with Bunny and swung him around in a circle like a merry-go-round.

"So bored," she muttered, sticking her tongue out and blowing a raspberry. "Sooo bored. Are you bored, Bunny?" She made Bunny do a little nod. "I know you are. So, you know what, we're gonna do somethin' fun."  
>She threw Bunny in the air and caught him in a hug. Grinning mischievously, she whispered in Bunny's ear: "We're gonna go see the dragon!" Grabbing a plastic baggie full of cookies—because that's what grounded dragons really need—she spun around and pretended to roar.<p>

No grounding could stop a seven-year-old dragon tamer.

XXX

Blood stained the Mother's maw as she ripped into her latest victim. The deer had been a result of her feigned starvation; she never thought she'd have to resort to begging, but here she was. In all her glory, she was pathetic-whining and screeching for food until the half-wits assigned to her care gave her extra rations. The animals were piling up in the dark corner behind her: ones that were edible to humans, ones that weren't, and ones for which she had no name. All fell prey to the Mother. The humans, she knew, wouldn't like the mess she was making.

Quite frankly, she didn't care. It didn't matter either way; she'd had enough.

Her belly full to bursting, she turned back towards the corner. Her muzzle dripped with blood and drool. She waited, waited for so long, until she felt her stomach turning and a tightness in her chest. Propping herself up against the wall, she coughed, and choked, and retched...

To escape, she'd have to be able to communicate.

Thick, translucent liquid poured out of her open jaws, landing in a pool behind the remains of her regurgitated meal. Jelly, the whitecoats called it; Royal Jelly, finally coming, weak though it was due to her malnourishment and mental state. She continued until her head hurt and her throat ached. Stomach now largely empty, she laid back down to catch her breath.

It had been a long time since she'd done that. She didn't remember it hurting so much.

The child was useless to her if they couldn't communicate. With this, hopefully that would change. With this, the girl could become a member of her brood-if only for the purpose of aiding in her escape.

XXX

Lucy couldn't wait to see Miss Dragon again. She wanted to tell her Papa, but he wouldn't be happy about that, so she kept it to herself. Still, she wondered how Papa could keep something so amazing so hidden away. Why did he keep her here, if he didn't want anyone to see her? Either way, he didn't seem to have any plans to let her go visit.

So, she thought she'd make her own.

It was 12:33; lunchtime had just started, so everyone would be in the cafeteria eating. Papa's friend Leon wasn't "supervising" like he was earlier. Maybe he figured Lucy had gotten the idea that she wasn't supposed to leave her room until Papa came back. Her Papa had told his friends she was a good listener, after all.

Maybe she was-but not today.

She inched open her door, holding her Bunny as she peered out into the hallway. It was empty! With a quiet giggle, she tiptoed out of the room, and gently closed the door. The dragon's room was on the other side of the building, aaaall the way downstairs, she remembered. It would take a little while to get there and back, but lunchtime was supposed to be an hour and fifteen minutes long. That should be enough time.

Was anybody watching? No? All clear! Lucy ran across the hall at top speed, giggling all the way to the elevator at the end. She lifted up Bunny's paw and had him press the "down" button. The elevator opened with a "ding!" and she stepped inside. What floor was Miss Dragon on? B something... B-10, that was it. She pushed the button for Floor B-10 and watched with excitement as the doors slid shut.

The elevator ride seemed to take forever. Lucy didn't much like elevator rides (they made her feel woozy) but she could bear with it if it meant she would get to see Miss Dragon. She wasn't woozy at all, no sir! ...But Bunny was.  
>The ride was over soon enough, and little Lucy found herself all the way down on Floor B-10. She ran fast-fast-fast down the hall-not because anybody could see her, but because she was a seven-year-old about to do something she knew she wasn't supposed to and that was as exciting as life could get.<p>

XXX

It was quiet for a while, but then it was not. The Mother, while tending to her store of life-jelly, heard tiny footsteps thunk-thunk-thunking down the hall, all the way to the observation room. There usually weren't any patrols during lunch hour. But that was no patrol.

Lucy burst into the room, smile on her face and plush toy in her arms.

Lucy! Oh, she might actually get out of this hellhole after all-! She crooned excitedly, despite the crushing shame that she was seeking aid from a human youngling. The child squealed, hopping in place, and returned the Mother's greeting with an enthusiastic wave. She hop-skipped over, humming to herself.

"Hi, Miss Dragon!" The girl's voice was squeaky as ever, maybe even more so this time. The Mother gave a soft chuff of amusement. "It's nice to see you again!"

The Mother was surprised (and slightly alarmed) to find herself agreeing.

"Me and Bunny got something for you." The girl rummaged around in her big sweatshirt pocket, pulling out a clear plastic bag filled with... something. The Mother tilted her massive head, confused.

"You've never seen these before?"

She snorted in the negative. Should she have?

"Oh, that's so sad! You've never had cookies!"

Apparently.

The girl unzipped the bag and pulled out a small, flat, round object speckled with dark-brown dots. It smelled sweet, and she felt fading warmth from its surface. Did the child want her to eat it? "It's chocolate chip. Papa and I baked some this morning. Want one?"

She wasn't so sure she did, but she took the object anyway, more to examine it than anything. It looked safe enough, and she had expended all her energy making the life-jelly...  
>The life-jelly! She'd almost forgotten.<p>

She nudged Lucy with the flat of her tail, beckoning her over to the corner.

"What is it?" the girl asked. "What's back here-ew!" Lucy kicked a pig bone, crinkling her nose in an ugly human expression of disgust. "It's all wet and smelly! Why's this here?"

The Mother ignored the child's reaction, sweeping the remains of her prey aside and gesturing to the corner with a nod of the head. Her life-jelly sat in a pile, glistening and wet and ready to fulfill its purpose. The child wouldn't know to eat it, though. The Mother leaned down and slowly extended her inner mouth to take a small bite.

"You want me to EAT that?"

She nodded.

"No offense, Miss Dragon, but that doesn't look very tasty. Or clean." The girl thought for a moment. "Papa tells me not to eat anything off the floor, especially when it looks...  
>blecky. And that does."<p>

The Mother snorted in frustration. She'd expected non-compliance, but it was still extremely irritating. The girl needed to eat it, not complain about how unappetizing it looked. Never mind the insult-it was getting in her way.

Trying her hardest not to intimidate the girl, she scooped up a clump of the jelly in her second pair of hands, holding it out and moaning softly. Hopefully the girl would accept it.

"I really dunno if I should-" Lucy smelled nervous now, and certainly looked the part with her brown eyes darting from the jelly to the Mother and back again. Finally she gave, and took a bit of the jelly in her own hands. She sniffed it hesitantly. "Smells like peaches," she said. "I like peaches."

(The Mother didn't know what peaches were, but she decided to take that as a compliment.)

Grimacing, the girl gulped some down. "Doesn't taste like peaches," she said. "But it's not that bad. Slimy, yet satisfying." The glob in the girl's hands was gone in less than a minute. The Mother was glad to see it. "But now you've got to have my cookie."

Ah, yes, the cookie. She'd been holding it the whole time but it had slipped her mind. She was reluctant to eat something that the humans had made out of her sight, but the girl had eaten the jelly, which wasn't exactly typical human cuisine... so down it went.

It was so sweet! She'd never tasted anything like it! Despite herself, the mother purred. She grabbed the bag from the girl (who seemed like she could start bouncing off the walls at any moment-from excitement or the life-jelly?) and hoarded it beneath the bones for later.

"So? Do you like it?"

She nodded with genuine enthusiasm, crooning. Whatever was in that "cookie" was not something to which her body was accustomed; everything seemed to be going much faster, herself especially, and she had no doubt that were she not chained up she had enough energy to run across oceans. It gave her the jitters.

"Good! I liked your treat too, even if it was a little gooey."

She gave the girl a nudge with her maw, turned her around with gentle hands. She could feel it coming, even after such a short time-the mental link that would make Lucy one of the brood. So to speak. Tentatively, she reached out with her mind-voice. A slight, staticky buzz tickled the back of her neck. Her grip on the girl's shoulders unconsciously got tighter.

"What are you doing, Miss Dragon?"

Almost there, almost there... The girl's mental barriers were weak, but they did exist. She overrode them.

All at once, the Mother knew the child. It went beyond words, beyond simple empathy-she could feel what Lucy felt, through their link. Just as she had with her own children. Thoughts, memories, emotion collided together in a slurry and bled through. They were vague, coming from a mind so young and so foreign, but they were strong. She hadn't done this in a very long while.

Lucy was taken aback; the Mother could feel her recoiling at the shock of mental contact. Confusion, fear, welled up in the child's psyche like poison; the Mother swept them away with a wave of forced calm.

/Hello,/ the Mother said.

The girl jumped, physically and mentally. "Miss Dragon, you can talk?"

/To you, yes. You ate the life-jelly./

"I... Oh." The girl contemplated this for a moment.

/It's all right. Don't be afraid./

"Who said I was?"

/I can feel it./

"Huh."

The Mother couldn't help but be gentle; it was impossible for her to willingly harm someone to whom she was linked, since doing so meant pain on both ends. Though she was hesitant to regard a human as anything better than a convenience, what was done was done. They were linked now, with all the baggage that carried.

She knelt, touching the girl's head. /We are friends. Right, Lucy?/

Friends, with a human? What had she come to? It was just until she got out, she thought. With enough distance and enough time, the link would fade and they could both go about their lives in relative peace. She would build a new Hive, have a new brood.

"Hey, Miss Dragon?"

/Yes?/

"I wanted t' ask you before, but you couldn't talk then... Why do they have you all locked up down here? Are you grounded?" The girl bared her teeth in a mischievous expression. "I'm s'pposed to be."

Grounded? She would never understand all these human terms. Did "grounded" mean "imprisoned, tortured, and barely fed?" She doubted even a species like the humans would do that to their own younglings, so it must not be nearly so bad.

/No,/ she replied. /Not grounded./

"Oh. Then why?"

/They hate me./ It was true. Her children consumed their colonies quickly. She wouldn't be surprised if this was their revenge.

"Why?" Confusion steamed across the link. "You seem nice to me."  
>Because I am not like you. You would not understand./

"Oh."

A moment of quiet. The Mother could feel Lucy thinking. (It sort of tickled.) Then:

"I could help you get out, if y' want."

/...I had plans to ask, eventually./

"What would I have to do?"

/Tell me everything you know about the layout of this facility. How many guards, when and where./

Dark brown eyes flittered around nervously. "Y'see, Miss Dragon-"

/Please, do stop calling me that. Call me whatever your kind do./

"Uh, okay-um-I would, Miss Queen, but you see I really don't know all that much about this place. I was asleep when we got here. I've never even seen the front door."

No. No no no, that wouldn't work. /Find out then. I need to know. / She could feel herself growing angry, willfully suppressed it. She needed out as soon as possible. /Please./

"I'll try, Miss Dra-Miss Queen." The girl out her hand against her head in a mock salute like the ones she'd seen the humans do so many times. "Maybe Papa will finally give me a tour if I ask really hard."

/Good./ But not good enough. Not guaranteed. /Thank you./

"And, Miss Queen?"

/Yes?/

"Thank you for your treat. It was very nice of you. I'm glad I can talk t'you now."

/You're very welcome. And you're good at making-ah-"cookies"./

Giving a big grin, Lucy walked out the door.

Neither of them noticed the cameras.


	4. An Education

**Sorry for the long wait, again; school and irl things caught up with me. I've been very stressed out lately, so updates might be spotty for a while. Also, sorry if this chapter is inconsistent with the others. I know it's pretty bad, but I've been sick and it's been hard for me to find muse for this fic lately. Excuses, excuses.**

XXX

_Hunting was dangerous, even for them. As agile, as stealthy, as deadly as they were, nature had a way of keeping things in balance. Oftentimes her children would return home dripping blood and empty-handed, and that night they could not eat. _

_But never had prey _killed _before. _

_She knew something was wrong when she felt _mourning _through the link. She was right. Of the eight that had departed that morning, only four returned, carrying on their backs the mangled bodies of their slain sisters. It was hard to look at the bodies. It always was—but she had to. Holes had been ripped through their bodies, piercing even the thick hide of the head and chest. From the looks of it, the first three had had quick deaths. But the other… hacked, slashed, burned. The survivors, nursing burn wounds, said they did not know what had come out of the woods that day; only that it was very loud, very determined, and very angry. _

_She was those things, too. _

_She asked for reconnaissance volunteers. A young warrior in her first molt offered to go. She was perfect: small, quiet, quick on her feet. _

_The warrior never came back. The dream let her see what she had thought happened; split skull, severed limbs, room corroded by a shower of blood. Giant holes ripped straight through the poor drone's chest. An infant, brutally dismembered. _Her_ infant, killed by who-knows-what._

_The Mother was distraught. Putting her children's lives in danger went against every instinct she had. But she could not risk her own life; if she were dead, her Hive would die, too. Reluctantly, she sent another, a drone this time. Although she resented thinking in terms of functional value, drones were the least important to the working order of the Hive. (What a disgusting excuse, she thought.) _

_Time went by very slowly that day as the mourning Mother waited for the worst. Briefly she considered sending reinforcements, but that would just get the drone caught if she hadn't been already. The drone was too far away; the link between Mother and child was weak. So she waited, anxious. _

_Her heart leapt when the drone returned, but sank at the yellow-green blood that dripped behind. She was injured, limping, whining in pain. Carrying something behind her. _Welcome back, welcome back, _the Mother greeted. She beckoned the drone forward. _

_The type of creature her child held, she had never seen alive. But she remembered it, from her own birth and from those of her children's very first generation. It had been a long time since she'd seen one, so long that she didn't know they even lived here anymore. Nonetheless, the drone carried the very thing she had been gestated in, seven years ago—_

_A human._

_She didn't know much about them, other than the fact that they were good for breeding. Short-but-not-too-short, with arms and legs of unequal length (there was no way the creature could crawl, at least not so gracefully as They did) and a flat, stub-like head that ended in a large wad of yellow fur. It wasn't quite alive, but not quite dead either; though it was unconscious and covered in ugly red blood, she could still feel a faint pulse when she pressed a finger to its neck. It had no claws, no tail. When she opened its jaw, she saw it lacked fangs. In her dreamscape, it had no teeth whatsoever. _

_Was _this_ creature—this pale, soft-fleshed _host animal—_what had killed her children? No. She refused to believe it. At the very least, there was no way it could have acted alone. _

_She had to—_

Awake, suddenly.

She didn't like that dream.

XXX

Davis wasn't tight-strung so much as he was logical. He had years and years of research under his metaphorical belt; multiple degrees in xenobiology and both the behavioral and animal sciences; he'd won awards for his groundbreaking work in regards to the hostile life forms creatures like _that _one spawned. Plenty of awards. By all accounts, he should be competent enough to raise a child.

This, however, was debatable. Somehow, while he was away from the facility on business, his own daughter had slipped away from her caretakers and broken into the Queen's chamber. And somehow, against all odds, she had _survived_ it.

"_Species: Internecivus raptus. Captured on LV-674 on 3/25/2143. 173 Colonial Marines casualties in large-scale Xenomorph hive break-in after predatory specimens sabotaged local colonization attempts. Queen specimen returned to nearest Weyland-Yutani facility on LV-580 via reinforced cargo ship after deaths of 13 transportation personnel."_

His little girl, his _seven-year-old daughter, _had survived _this._ It had to be something special. So, against both his conscience and his better judgment, he let her try it again while he watched the security feed.

"With all due respect, sir," one of his interns had said, "that doesn't seem like a very responsible thing to do." And it wasn't. So much as _thinking _about it probably meant he was an awful father and an even worse person, but this was such an amazing opportunity—

For what? He wasn't entirely sure. But the Queen had shown his daughter mercy, something he thought it was incapable of doing. There had to be a reason. There _had _to be. And he was going to find it. So he sat back and watched as his little girl snuck once more into the lair of the most dangerous creature in the entire facility. _Oh, God,_ he thought, _she's going to die._

She didn't. Once again, the Queen let Lucy live. To top it off, he found out why she wanted him to make cookies that morning.

The Queen Xenomorph, _Internecivus raptus,_ the progenitor of a whole 134 members of the most deadly parasite-predator Wey-Yu had ever discovered. It and his tiny, helpless, seven-year-old daughter had _**shared cookies.**_

Why? _Why,_ dammit?

XXX

Today was health-checking day. The Mother knew this because there was no visit from Lucy—only from an assortment of whitecoats and soldiers escorting her to the blinding-white hellhole they called the "examination room." Of everything the humans subjected her to over the course of her capture, the monthly health-check was the thing she _**hated**_ the most. It was humiliating, demeaning in the worst possible way, stripped her of not only her dignity but also her ability to move. They strapped her down to a huge metal slab on the floor, stuck something into the fleshy gap just under her exoskeletal ribcage that made her heart pump slow and everything go fuzzy and quiet and numb. Then came the pictures—she never understood how they did this, really—pictures that showed the whitecoats her bones, to scan for splits or fractures.

Then it was time for the blood tests.

This was always interesting to watch, even in her groggy state; they thought they had come up with a holding device that could "instantly neutralize the acidity of her blood," whatever that meant, but someone invariably slipped up and burned something. The last time, a whitecoat (so nervous that it wasn't a smell so much as it was a slap to the face) had let just a few tiny drops out of the reinforced syringe and scalded his hand through the thick plastic gloves. At least there was the hope for some entertainment while she was bound to this damned table.

(She had picked up on the whitecoats' colorful vocabulary in the aforementioned hand-burning incident. She assumed the words had _strongly_ negative connotations from the way they said them.)

But today there would be no accidents. She felt a slight pain in her right shoulder, and vaguely registered that they had retrieved it without anyone getting hurt. The whitecoat who had taken the blood walked out, probably to scan it or something; she didn't know. She didn't care, because the world was still spinning and she was half-asleep but not really, and she didn't want to be here but like always they were making her. She hissed and spat and struggled, but eventually succumbed to the power of the soporific substance they'd pumped into her. Moaning softly, she fell into a dreamless anesthetic-induced sleep.

XXX

When she woke, Davis was there. The world still felt like it was imploding on her, and her head was filled with a terrible ache, but she could just make him out; his distinctively tall, well-muscled frame was silhouetted against the window by the bright light of the observation room, punctuated by a glint of light off his square glasses. Blearily, she gave a low rumble. She didn't like this man. She didn't like him _at all. _

"Feeling better?"

He tried to strike up conversation with her, sometimes, though he knew she couldn't talk back. Maybe it was some sort of bizarre human formality. Did they do this with all of their prisoners? Probably not. But she'd seen them do it with their _pets._

The Matriarch, a Mother and Guide to her many children, was _not_ a _**pet. **_She was a _**predator.**_ But she could do nothing to stop his bark-noise prattling except to respond with a hiss and a sweep of her tail.

"I guess so."

She took it back. Of everything the humans had subjected her to, of all the terrible things she had seen in her long life, she hated _**Davis**_ the most. At his command, everything she loved had been incinerated. At his command, she had been taken prisoner and brought here to rot. At his command, the Mother and her children were destroyed.

But that was not why she hated him.

She hated him because his command had been so _cold._ Detached. She saw his face while he gave the order to burn Her children alive, and there had been nothing on it. He thought so lowly of her that he could slaughter upwards of a hundred, a new generation of first-molts and hatchlings, without a second thought.

At least when she killed _them_ she knew they _felt_ it.

Even now, there was nothing there. He spewed meaningless banter like it was his job, nothing more. It was insulting.

"You'll notice we've tightened your bindings to the wall a bit. One of our personnel noticed that they had been loosening for quite some time now. I trust you'll appreciate the repairs."

"My employees have reported no incidents of aggression from you. It appears you're becoming more open to our methods here. Thank you for your cooperation."

"We will have to clean your enclosure tomorrow. I suggest you prepare for more tranquilizers. I know they can be disorienting."

He went on and on and on. It was all the same sorts of things, every time. She fell into a daze, away from the one-sided discussion. Until…

"We've checked the blood sample," he said. "You're perfectly healthy. I thought I would let you know. Though—" was his face tensing up? That was unusual—"though we did find trace amounts of _high-fructose corn syrup_ in there. I wonder how that happened?" The dark-skinned whitecoat tapped the reinforced glass with one finger. "We don't make a habit of giving our specimens _sweets. _I assume you'll have no problem with this, you hellbeast. Just a nickname, pay it no mind. If you've got one, that is."

She didn't. The murderer's stupid nicknames didn't matter. But sweets?

_**Cookies?**_

Her heart sped just a little at the connection. Did he know about the cookies? If he knew about the cookies then he might know about _Lucy._ Lucy wouldn't tell _**Davis**_ about her, would she? Not Davis. Surely she had someone else to chit-chat to.

Someone like that Papa of hers.

XXX

Lucy knew she could never tell anyone. Not even her Papa. She had worked very, very hard to keep her friendship with Miss Queen secret, and, though she felt terrible for keeping secrets from her Papa, she thought she was doing a pretty good job. So in she went to her Papa's office, freshly un-grounded, free to wander (so long as she had supervision, but that wasn't a problem while everyone was asleep) and eager to talk.

She found him sitting at his desk, much like he always was, a mug of coffee reading "SPACE'S GREATEST DAD" in one hand (she'd gotten it for his birthday last year using six dollars of saved-up allowance money) and a yellow file in the other. He stared at the file with his most serious face, but Lucy didn't really think he was reading it.

He turned around, saw Lucy and her supervisor standing in the doorway, and his face lit up in the way she liked best.

"Lucy! There's my little girl." She ran over, and he picked her up, plopping her down on his lap. "How is she behaving, Gwen?" (Gwen was her supervisor. She was tall, and fair-skinned, and blonde. Most people thought she was pretty, but Lucy didn't think so—Lucy thought she was ugly. Especially when she made that googly-eye face at her Papa. Gwen seemed to like her Papa a whole lot.)

Gwen's bright red-coated lips parted in an artificially whitened smile. Gwen was even uglier like that. "She's been a doll, sir. Just charming." And even more ugly when she _talked _like _that._ Lucy was lucky Papa didn't like Gwen the same, because the lady got very annoying very fast.

Her disgust for Gwen was replaced with poorly suppressed giggles as her Papa tickled under her arms. "I'm sure she has been," he said, glasses hanging off his nose. "You're a good kid, aren't you, Lucy?"

"Yeah, I'm a good kid," she agreed. Gwen smiled in the background.

Papa looked back to the lady. "Gwen, would you mind leaving for a little bit? I've got something I want to talk to Lucy about."

Was she getting a surprise? She loved surprises. It was her birthday in three weeks, so she wouldn't _really_ be surprised if Papa was planning a surprise, but it's the thought that counts, right?

Gwen's smile faded. "Of course, sir." She left the room, her high heels clopping against the floor like horse hooves. Clip-clop, went Gwen. She looked like a horse, too. Papa said it was rude for her to say things like that, but it was true.

"C'mere," Papa said. "I think it's time we had a little talk."

XXX

Gwen liked Lucy, she really did. Most everyone around the facility did, in fact; she was like a little ray of sunshine beaming her way around the dark, gloomy halls, putting smiles on faces wherever she went. That was why her father had brought her here, anyway. She made him happy. She was the only thing that could make him happy like that.

Gwen wanted to make him happy, too.

She admired Lucy's father more than anyone else. He was a good worker, a strong leader. He wasn't a particularly handsome man, though he had a good physique, but he had an air of bravery and determination about him that would inspire anyone in the room. As his assistant and a worker in the xenobiology department here at Weyland-Yutani Compound 425, she had seen it firsthand. She wanted to share it with him. She wanted to bask in that glow herself. Was that selfish?

Yes, it was. But how could she help herself?

It always made her heart sink a little when he asked her to leave the room. She wasn't stupid, not by any means; she knew it wasn't personal. She also knew he held no particular affection for her. It was pathetic, really. She was pathetic. He was the only reason she still worked here at this terribly depressing place. She didn't want to leave, she never wanted to leave, but she had to. She walked out of the room in her all-too-uncomfortable heels (she was short, and wanted to make an impression), and closed the door gingerly behind her.

She couldn't bring herself to continue. She stood like a guilt-ridden voyeur in the hallway, rubbing her left arm with her right hand and blowing a strand of her blonde hair out of the way just so she could do something with her breath. Usually she didn't stoop this low. She was a good employee, she listened to her boss. Her boss had asked her to leave.

But she was in love. It's hard to leave when you're in love, even if you're only going a few halls down and the object of your affection doesn't love you back.

She slumped down to the floor with a quiet _thump_, burying her head in her hands.

"… know you've been visiting the Queen…"

The Queen? Was that what this talk was about? She hadn't been part of the capture team, but had heard about the mess involved. A shit-ton of people were killed that day. And so were a shit-ton of xenomorphs. The Queen itself caused many of the casualties after its spawn got taken out. The thing wreaked havoc over there. She had no doubt it would do the same if it ever got out somehow. But what was this about "visiting?"

Slowly, she pressed her ear against the closed door. His office had never been soundproofed. She was a terrible person for eavesdropping, but she did it anyway.

"…I'm glad you've made a friend, Lucy. I really am. But don't you think that friend's a little big for you? Just a little dangerous?"

"No, Papa. Miss Queen's nice. "

"Are you sure? She's hurt a lot of people, Lucy. I don't want you to get hurt."

"But she's my friend! She wouldn't hurt me."

Gwen doubted that. Apparently the boss did too. "You can't be sure. What would your mother think if she saw this?"

"She _wanted_ me to make friends, right? Besides, I never even met her. I was too little. Why should I care what she would think?"

There was a silence. Not what Lucy should have said, obviously. He was still very touchy on the topic of the deceased Mrs. Davis (not that she'd pried into said topic. That would be shameful); evidently that extended to discussing it with his own kid.

"…You're right. Have fun with your friend. But be careful."

"I will."

How could Davis just let his daughter walk in with that… that _thing_? Not that she held anything but the deepest esteem for the man, of course, but—but really? This beast had _killed_ people. Maybe Davis would trust the creature enough to let his daughter in unsupervised—but she didn't.

XXX

Lucy visited every day that week. She would come, always holding that stuffed toy (which she had revealed was named Bunny, gifted to her by her Papa on the day she was born), dark hair wild and framing her chubby, bared-teeth face. It was always pleasant to have her around. Their little escape plan had been mostly pushed to the side for now, in favor of sweets and stories and songs.

Lucy did like songs. The Mother wasn't sure she understood the humans' tendency for it. It was pointless to her, as many human traditions were; just a string of bark-noises going up and down in volume and note at seemingly-random intervals. It was a distraction. How could it be anything else? Doing that in the open would attract predators. Or scare away prey. It certainly didn't look productive. But humans did love to distract themselves—and, she had to admit, she was growing to like it as well. There was one tune in particular that she was fond of: something called "Clementine," about a human named after a fruit that got lost. Maybe murdered. Something like that, anyway. It was meaningless violence romanticized in the form of a children's tune. Senseless and detached, so she liked it. She even hummed along a few times, breathy voice loud and booming through the cramped enclosure.

Besides "Clementine," the Mother learned about a thing the humans had that was called a "television." It sent messages to individual humans in their nests, or at least that was the impression she got; not quite Directives, more like another way for them to distract themselves when they had other, more important things to do. Lucy used it to watch a show, which was so old that the producers had to recast it nine times. The story revolved around a sponge and a starfish (animals she had never seen, and therefore presumed didn't exist), who walked around being annoying and generally ruining everybody's good time. Did the humans want their younglings to take after such characters? Either way, it was strangely satisfying to learn about the things Lucy liked to do.

Speaking of which, Lucy came again. She looked cheerier than ever. Even Bunny looked happy (probably because Lucy had drawn a smiling face on it in permanent marker).

_Hello, Lucy. What are you so happy about?_

She grinned wider, tossing around Bunny's ears. "My Papa says he's okay with me being down here," she said. "He says it's good I'm making friends."

Well. That wasn't what she expected.

_How did your Papa know you were here?_

"He didn't tell me," she said. "But he knew. And now we don't have to worry so much about keeping it a secret, right?"

Maybe. Maybe not. She would have to keep on her guard just in case. But, as a Mother, she knew how fragile the ego of a youngling could be. She would humor the girl with praise—what else could she do?

_Good for us, Lucy. _

An awkward silence.

"I'm sorry I've been so useless. I haven't helped you get out at all."

_It's okay. You've been trying._

"Not hard enough. I know you hate this place."

_Lucy, really, it's all right._

"Papa never did give me that tour."

_Did you ask?_

"Do you have a Papa?"

It really was fascinating how quickly humans liked to change topics.

_No, Lucy._

"Do you have a Mama?"

_I am one. _It was said matter-of-factly, in the hopes that Lucy would brush past the topic, but she had no such luck.

"…Where are your kids, then?"

She sighed, long and deep. This would be difficult. _Where is your mother?_

Lucy grimaced. "She's gone. Papa says a monster ate her from inside. I didn't know her. I was too little."

From inside? Was her mother a Cocoon for one of her offspring? That was a coincidence. Not an odd one, though; if the woman was in the vicinity of her Hive when it was at its prime, she would have been. _My children are gone,_ she said; _they died _fighting_ monsters. And I did know them. Very well. _

"…Oh. I'm sorry."

_It's all right. _(It wasn't all right.)_ It's not your fault. _

And then, out of nowhere, Lucy began to leak. She had never seen this human phenomenon before—was the girl ill? Did her jelly have a secondary effect she didn't know about?

"I—I'm so sorry, it must be so hard…"

_What?_

"I'm so sorry-!" Lucy _howled_, the leak intensifying until the Mother thought her eyes might burst. (She didn't know how eyes worked, but that couldn't be it, right?) A stream of grief matched the eye-water as it flooded across the link… crying. Lucy was crying. Somehow she knew what the display was called, and somehow she knew how to respond. Straining at the chains that bound her to the wall, she walked with her long, semi-atrophied legs the few steps she needed to reach the girl. That accomplished, she reached out her secondary arms. She scooped the startled girl up, as gingerly as a seventeen-foot-tall "hellbeast" could manage, and wrapped her primary arms around as well until Lucy was firmly nestled in a thick layer of scarred chitin.

Lucy had taught her many things; this was one of them. She could only hope she was doing it right. It was a human symbol of caring and understanding, neither of which she had ever paid one of the soft-fleshed beasts.

Lucy called it a "hug."

"Thank you," Lucy said. "For everything."

_You're welcome._ (She had learned some common courtesy, too.)

"We'll be okay, right?"

_Of course we will._

Lucy choked out another sob. Happy this time. "We've got each other, now." She inhaled deeply, wiping the last of the eye-water away. "Right, Mama?"

XXX

Gwen had bad news. Davis could tell from the way her jaw clenched, from the way her fists hung tight by her sides.

"Sir, it's planning an escape."

"Who's planning an escape?"

"The Xenomorph Queen, sir."

"How can that thing possibly plan an escape? It's just a dumb animal."

"Sir, it's planning an escape. I heard it. Over the security feed."

"From whom?"

Gwen gulped, gritted her teeth. "Your daughter, sir. It's planning an escape with your daughter."

XXX

In the middle of the night, Davis stormed down to floor B7.

He knew it. He knew it couldn't have been actual _caring_ that creature was showing his little girl. It only wanted to use her to escape. He'd bet it would kill her as soon as it had its way. The stupid, evil _hellbeast—_

What had his daughter been doing? She had _betrayed_ his trust, nearly sabotaged the entire facility for the sake of her "friend," could have killed everyone here.

Then what was he? He was the one who let her go down there. He was the one who let this happen. He was the one who allowed his little _seven-year-old_ to visit daily the monster that had slaughtered 43 personnel _single-handedly_ before being taken down with seven tranq shots and an electric net. What was—goddammit, what was _wrong_ with him? He'd let the Wey-Yu come before his own _family._ The only family he had left.

XXX

As he frantically pressed the door-close button, he decided. He was going to do it. He would have this thing killed.

XXX

Within minutes, he was at the entrance to the beast's lair. He would give it no warning. He slammed the button to open the observation room, and grinned at the startling hiss it made. Not unlike the Queen's own, he thought. And certainly as intimidating, given the implication.

"Hello."

The frightened snarl his sudden presence produced told him the Queen had been sleeping. Good. He would only be more effective, then.

"I see you weren't expecting me." It never was. That was why it was so satisfying. This thing was a murderer. It deserved every ounce of primal fear it got.

"I have been extremely tolerant of your communications with the girl as of yet."

A growl. Recognition.

"But recently we have gotten light of a disturbing development."

A hiss. Realization.

"It has been revealed to us that the two of you have been planning an escape. I didn't know you were capable of such things. But you will not be underestimated again. You will stay away from my daughter."

A screech, a whip of the tail. Fear.

"Enjoy your last night at the Facility, Xenomorph Queen of LV-674. You're going to die tomorrow."

Straining at the chains. Screaming. Panic. Good.

As he exited the dragon's lair, he took a crumpled file out from his suit pocket.

_Mrs. Flora Davis. Xenobiology department. Deceased. Cause of death: killed by fully-incubated Queen Chestburster. _


	5. FREEDOM

Slow, heavy breaths crackled over the security feed. Gwen tried her best to ignore it, but the rhythmic noise made her uneasy; the sight of the caged Queen, even more so. It wasn't doing anything to cause her discomfort—in fact, it wasn't doing anything at all. It simply stared at the reinforced observation window, in deep concentration. Was it boredom, complacency? Maybe the solemn intent of one who knows something bad is waiting around the corner, coiled and ready to spring? Every once in a while, it turned its massive head towards the camera, gave a long sigh, and returned to staring at the window.

Since when had it known there was a camera?

Gwen knew the Queen was anticipating something, but she had to wonder whether it actually knew it was going to die. Sure, it had interacted with a child well enough, but children weren't very complicated. Could it understand speech? Moreover, did it understand the concept of a future, the concept of preparing for one? Of preparing for death?

If it did, she mused, that would make it much too close to human. So she humored herself with the idea that it was just a stupid animal with a bad sense of object permanence. She looked back at the monitor. The Queen was still staring at the wall, wringing its hands uncomfortably and shifting back and forth. Its tail, tied to the ceiling, quivered in its bindings. It was a picture of eerie calm. Gwen wasn't looking forward to the storm.

To distract herself, she rolled the cushioned computer chair over to the adjacent desk, where she kept the files and coffee, and took a swig out of her baby-blue mug. It was lukewarm. Grimacing, she swallowed the stuff and grabbed a few files. She'd been in here a few times; though it wasn't her office, she'd made a makeshift compartment for her things in the bottom-left drawer. Among these things were some testing records. She could use some reading, to distract herself.

Absentmindedly, she flipped through file after file-there were the batbird test records, the Visrhins, among others; hundreds of species, tested for strength, endurance, intelligence, stamina. At the bottom of the pile, she found the most relevant record: that of the compound's lone Xenomorph occupant.

Specimen: 132

Date: 3/6/2399 Start Time 15:00 End Time 18:55

Objective: Standard strength/endurance test.

Description: Specimen transported to Test Room B9 under anesthetic. Mid-level combat androids continuously dispatched to B9 with orders to "eradicate Xenomorph threat." Queen specimen terminated 262 androids over the course of 3.5 house before collapsing of exhaustion.

Result: Extraordinary endurance levels confirmed. Specimen targeted heavily-armed androids first, suggesting the use of some strategy. Specimen received 73 bullet wounds before collapse.

Notes: I never approved the use of so many androids. Those repairs are coming out of somebody's paychecks, and they are not going to like it.

-Dr. Davis

Well, that was unpleasant. Even reading the year-old record made her flinch. It was just such a waste of funds! She hoped that pay reduction came into effect, because those kinds of repairs could cost upwards of ten-thousand on just one android. Goddamn.

She gave another wary glance at the security monitor. The Queen looked to be hyperventilating a bit-but that wasn't any cause for alarm. It was perfectly healthy; at least, it was for now.

Why was Davis planning to kill such a valuable specimen just because she reported that his child was conspiring to let it escape? You couldn't always trust kids. Maybe she was just playing pretend or something. But that would technically make the death of the specimen both meaningless and her own fault, since she was the messenger who convinced Davis it was up to no good... She pushed the thought from her mind. She had decided, just now in fact, that she believed the Queen was intelligent enough to understand Lucy. The way Lucy spoke, it sounded as though she was conversing with it, somehow.

Was she?

The security footage was on the computer. Two whole years of it.

Biting her bottom lip, she rolled the chair over to the computer and logged in. As Davis's assistant, she had high clearance, and could access nearly every file in the whole damn system. Now seemed like as good a time as any to use it.

She scrolled through folder after folder, just as she did the papers-both were organized alphabetically according to species name, as were the standards-until she found the one she was looking for. This was much better than just the test-record files. In this folder, simply labeled "XENOMORPH," was every minute of video that had ever been captured of their Xenomorph Queen.

She didn't need all of it. She had already seen the early test files, mainly because she had been there to witness the testing. It was the later video, taken long after the tests had come to a grinding halt and the Queen had been caged, that she wanted to see. Gwen wanted to see for herself just how this thing interacted with the seven-year-old girl she was supposed to babysit.

Tape after tape she watched, eyes itchy and watering, throat dry. She watched Lucy give her trust to the Queen, much too easily, watched her smile sweetly and laugh with a nightmarish beast breathing down her neck. She watched the Queen, watched it feed the girl a terrifyingly potent drug, watched it even as it watched Lucy, bound and bated. It was clear, in the way Lucy talked, that they were in fact conversing with one another-how, Gwen didn't know. She didn't care, frankly-all she cared about was that she had been proven right, that the Queen was attempting an escape using Lucy as its pawn.

But, even knowing that, she didn't understand why they had to kill it. It was a monster in both the literal sense and otherwise, manipulating the child to meet its own ends, but that meant it must have monumental intelligence! Wasn't that worth exploring? Couldn't they just increase security measures on the thing? She loved Davis, but that didn't mean she couldn't question his methods.

She told herself that, but she knew why. She knew why he wanted this thing dead so badly, why he would forego the breakthroughs it could bring, why he would risk punishment from the higher-ups to have it dead. It was because of Flora, wasn't it? Of course it was.

She knew how he felt. She had come into this project with a bias against the Queen, as had nearly everybody on the team. Not because it was a terrifying Eldritch horror that had no right to exist; not because it was terrifying, or angry, or out for blood. She hated it-Davis hated it-for what it had done to Flora.

No. Now wasn't the time to think about that. She had a Queen to monitor. But her mind wandered, as minds will, and she found herself thinking about Flora with only her bad coffee and space heater to comfort her.

She and Flora had been very good friends, once upon a time. Flora had been everybody's friend, in fact. She was smart, witty. Charismatic. She had a taste for adventure like nobody Gwen had ever seen. So she wasn't surprised when she ended up staying in the low ranks while Flora climbed the corporate ladder. Flora never rubbed it in, though, and that was what Gwen liked about her; she would come for coffee and idle chit-chat in the afternoons. She cared, and so Gwen was proud of her instead of jealous.

Yes, they had been close, ever since joining the Company-so, even though she was heartbroken when Flora and Davis became lovers, she held her tongue. For both their sakes.

Breathing deeply, Gwen took another look at the screen. Still nothing. Sighing, she took a sip of the coffee and slipped back into her unpleasant thoughts. Even if they hurt, they were something-something to remind her why the beast needed to die.

Soon after Flora became unofficial head of the recon team, she got herself knocked up by none other than Head Honcho Davis himself. Gwen chuckled drowsily. Flora had never seemed like the type to want a child, to settle down and leave the adventuring to other people. She was just too fidgety. Somehow Gwen doubted Lucy's conception had been entirely intentional. But Flora carried the baby anyhow, and nine months later Lucy came, smily and chubby and full of life.

What a beautiful little girl, Gwen thought, taking a contemplative sip of coffee. Too beautiful to affiliate herself with a foul creature like that.

Flora tried so hard to be a mother. Gwen saw it, Davis saw it, everybody saw it. But if there was one thing that Flora couldn't do, it was raise a kid. She was miserable, being pinned down like that; she loved Lucy, that much was clear, but the responsibility was too much. Most days Davis ended up being the caretaker while Flora covered his work. It was tough on her. She would often come to Gwen for help, crying into her arms about how she was a terrible parent, asking what she could possibly do with a child to raise and the facility to run! Gwen hated to see her that way. That was when Gwen transferred from her desk job and became Davis's assistant; as a family friend, she already knew the baby well enough, so there would be no hysterics if she was put into Gwen's hands.

She admitted it might not have been an entirely unselfish move on her part, but that was beside the point. Flora was free to do what she wanted, and she did-only ten months after Lucy was born, she was back on the recon team. Their first mission after her return to her former position should have been easy. They were to go on a trip to a planet terraformed 100 years ago as a habitat for endangered species, recently colonized by a small group of scientists and farmers. It was just to see how things were going; how the ecosystem was developing, how much rain the areas had received, et cetera. Simple stuff. Nobody expected it would end like it did.

As Davis's assistant and Flora's friend, she had been in contact with the group over intercom. Flora was so happy, gushing over the connection about how beautiful the planet was, how far it'd come, how strong all the trees were-it was adorable, really, her enthusiasm for these sorts of things. And then, in an instant, she was screaming. Gwen panicked, asked "what's wrong, what's happening," heard muffled yelping and the sounds of struggle in the tall grass.

She only knew the gist of it, but it was all she needed to know: the group had stumbled upon an egg in the undergrowth, hidden away for God-knows-how-long, and Flora had been its unfortunate victim. It wasn't Gwen's fault, because nature's cruelty couldn't be the fault of one woman with a desk job-but still she blamed herself. If she hadn't cleared her friend's schedule, then maybe Flora wouldn't have gone on the mission, and she would be safe here with Gwen and Davis and the child she had never wanted but cared about nonetheless.

But then, she thought, someone else would have been facehugged, and their family would be grieving. It was horrible how things worked out that way.

She was removed from the intercom room after the incident, and not permitted to enter afterwards, no matter how much she begged to talk to Flora before she died. Only Davis was there, alone in dim light, listening to the awful sounds of his lover withering away.

"Why had they let the Queen live?" she wanted to ask. "Why didn't they kill it when it was young, disoriented, vulnerable?" But she respected Davis's privacy too much to pry, and she doubted he'd tell her if she did. The question haunted her regardless.

She couldn't shake the thoughts now, as much as she wanted to. She returned to her coffee and her paperwork, trying to take comfort in the lukewarm monotony.

The sick batbird they'd sent in for examination had come back, one said, fully recovered and squawking for joy. She smiled slightly, signing the medical bill in her most professional scrawl and setting it aside. After shuffling the unruly stack of papers she continued this easy task: sign here, sign there, curly scripture marking paper after paper with the approving power Davis had vested in her as his personal secretary.

...This wasn't working, dammit. She had gotten herself into a rut, and it didn't look like she was getting out of it anytime soon.

She sighed and reclined in her chair, clasping her hands behind her head. Absentmindedly, she turned to the monitor. Still nothing. Another sigh, another swig of coffee. Another headache. She rubbed her temples, letting out a long yawn.

Hopefully this would all be over soon enough, and she could go back to her regular life of paperwork and moderate pay.

XXX

The Mother knew she was going to die, but she wasn't afraid. She'd had enough time since Davis's nasty announcement to calm herself, collect her thoughts, stop her spinning head. She was ready, wasn't she? She was young, sure, but she had nothing left-no Hive, no family, nothing. Her strength had finally hit rock bottom after its long, steep decline; with it fell her willpower. Now, she waited patiently, wringing her scarred hands just to occupy her fingers.

There was no way she would be sleeping, not tonight. She wasn't afraid, but she didn't want her end to catch her off-guard. No, she would go out with dignity-at least, as much dignity as she had left. Instead she focused her tired mind on breathing, because she thought she might like to enjoy it, with so little time left to do so. Maybe she would like to remember the sensation, if there was any place for remembering things once you were dead.

In, out. In, out. Deep breaths; in, out. In, out.

It was nice, breathing. She would miss it after all.

In, out. Steady. /Whoosh./

She entertained herself with simple thoughts of hunting and humming and nature, and of the trees that grew by the cave maze she used to call Home. They were beautiful trees, tall and thick and strong, speckled with carpets of fungi and mosses. She loved those trees. She loved the cave, too; it was deep, dark, cool but not cold. The air in there was moist, and she felt water in her throat when she breathed, like she was doing now...

In, out.

Then she thought of other things: her Hive's first generation, specifically. She had been so confused with what to do with them, despite her instincts; she knew to go out and find some suitable hosts for cocooning, and to bring them back to somewhere safe, and to set herself up to lay afterwards. Despite this, she had been completely taken aback at the birthing of he first child. Not at the violent means by which they came into the world, but the beauty of the fact that they came into it in the first place.

In, out.

She was surprised at herself, that when she knew she was going to die soon her thoughts weren't filled with hate. She certainly had plenty to hate: the humans, their fire, their bullets, this terrible place they'd thrown her in when she'd outlived her usefulness to whatever cause they claimed to have. But even with those things weighing down upon her, she had so much to love. Like her Hive: what her family used to be. And Lucy: all she had now.

Lucy. Would the girl miss her when she was gone? She almost hoped not. She didn't want Lucy to cry again.

She sighed and laid her head down, groaning. She wasn't afraid to die, she told herself. She was only afraid of what she would leave behind.

She had seen Death before, she reassured herself. It couldn't possibly be any worse than the last time. Yes, she had seen Death before: seen its hands, burning with hunger, eating through chitin and flesh and bone. She had seen it pine for what it consumed, leaking liquid-acid drool out of scattered bodies to melt through the floor.

No, no. Steady breathing. She didn't have time for thoughts like this. In, out. In, out.

She heard Death too, heard the rat-tat-tat of bullets ripping holes in anything and everything, blinded with anger. She heard it growling, rumbling voice booming through the air and destroying everything it touched. She heard the screams.

In, out. Shorter and shorter. Faster and faster. Burning in her lungs.

She heard her children screaming. Yes, they screamed terribly, calling save us! Save us! We don't want to die! but she could do nothing but stand and watch as their lives pooled out under them and Death-damn selfish Death-took them all for itself!

In out in out in out- she whimpered like a hatchling, covering the dome of her head with both sets of chained hands. There was a deep hurt in her chest when she thought about these things. She began a mantra.

She had seen Death before, and she wasn't afraid.

She had seen Death before, and she wasn't afraid.

She had seen Death before, and she wasn't afraid.

(she was terrified)

It was late. She was so tired. But if she fell asleep now, it would be morning and he would kill her. Waiting was a million times more agonizing than it should have been, she realized. Davis knew that. Of course. He planned this, just like he always did. He tortured her for... what was the word?

Laughs. Yes, he tortured her for laughs. He wanted the suspense to drive her mad, chip her away from inside, eat up whatever was left. She refused to become an empty shell.

Even if the sentiment was pointless, it comforted her; because if she was so determined to not be empty inside, it meant she wasn't. Not yet. Not ever.

If she had a god, she might have begged it: please, don't let me die.

XXX

Lucy was awoken at four o'clock in the morning by a funny feeling. She sat up, yawning, and kicked her way out of her blanket burrito to go get a glass of water from the nearby bathroom. After that was accomplished, she made her way back to her room and sat on her bed, taking tiny, thoughtful sips.

It didn't hurt, which was good. She would have gone to Papa if it hurt. It felt more like a tightness in her chest, like her insides were all twisted up and trying to rearrange themselves as quietly as possible. They weren't very quiet at all. She laid down with a sigh and, finding that uncomfortable, sat back up again. Neither position felt good, so she stood up and went to find Bunny.

Bunny was sitting on the bookshelf, just like he should have been, flopped over to the side and leaning on an instruction manual for some contraption or other that she didn't understand. She bet Bunny understood it. He was a very smart little rabbit.

Gently, so as not to wake him up, she lifted Bunny off the shelf and tucked him under her arm. Then she made her way back out of her room and into the dimly-lit hallway. Tonight was a night for sneaking. Maybe this time she'd be able to nab something from the vending machine. That thing always got stuck.

There was nobody in the hall except a few buzzing flies, which she swatted away with Bunny's paw. He needed to wake up, anyways. The air conditioning made a low humming in the background. It soothed her nerves a bit, but she couldn't shake the twisting feeling. Was she sick? She hoped not. She always hated taking medicine. But whether or not sickness had woken her, she was awake, and she might as well do something with her awakeness.

She kept her eyes trained on each door she passed as she tiptoed down the silent hall, not so much because she didn't want to be caught (since she wasn't doing anything wrong in the first place) as to make sure she wasn't disturbing anyone in their sleep. She knew from Papa how hard work could be, and surely everyone deserved a good night's rest, uninterrupted by little girls in punk fuzzy slippers going down hallways at night.

Maybe, if she got over to the stairwell without waking anyone, she could go to see Mama. That would be nice. She could use Mama's reassurance, what with her being maybe-sick and all.

Even as she thought of Mama in her cage downstairs, the back of her mind ran through possible causes of the mysterious feeling. It was almost like a giant hand, pressing down on her from the outside, except it seemed to come from the inside as well, so she felt to be twisted around by some mean spirit out to ruin her night. It didn't even feel real-like she was experiencing it here and now. Instead, it was almost as though she was feeling it from across space and time, a figment of some other Lucy's reality manifesting in the present. She shuddered.

Was she really shuddering? Or was that part of the feeling, too?

She stopped walking, rubbing her hand on her chin. A thought had occurred to her. What if-and this was crazy-what if Mama felt it, too? What if it was like the way they talked to each other, with both of them having access to the other's thoughts? What if the link between them carried over into Feelings, too?

All this thinking was worrying her sick. In any case, it would seem that tonight's top priority wasn't the vending machine.

Clutching Bunny tightly, she sneaked all the way down to the end of the hall. Nobody had woken up, which was good. She was good to go, so go she did.

Elevator or stairwell? she asked herself. The stairs would take longer, but the elevator might be really loud and she didn't want that. She decided on the stairs.

She eased open the dull-blue stairwell door, grunting under its weight, and squeezed herself through the gap. Then she proceeded to do the same in reverse, letting the door slowly shut with her hands behind it to keep from slamming. When only a sliver of space remained between the door and the frame, she kicked down the stopper and went on her way.

It was even darker in the stairwell than in the hallway-the only lights were the blinking smoke detectors and the pale glow coming from the next floor's door. She "shhed" Bunny (who was afraid of the dark) and pressed onward. Her feet made tiny plop-plunks on the concrete stairs, muffled by her slippers. She scowled. They must be getting dirty. She'd have to ask Papa to put them in the next wash.

She plop-plunked along for a considerable time until she completed the now-routine trip down to floor B7. She repeated her previous process with the door, and readied herself to face another long, dark hallway.

Actually... Wait. It wasn't as dark as she initially thought. Was that a light she saw at the end? It was right by Mama's room, just five or six doors down. The door was ajar, just enough for Lucy to see a shadow. There was a person awake in the room.

She hadn't thought she was worried about being caught, but she froze nonetheless, a practical deer in headlights. With a nervous gulp, she edged away too the cover of a nearby potted plant. She just wanted to see Mama! Why did things have to be so difficult? From her safe zone behind the plant, she began to formulate a game plan.

She heard quiet humming from the room. If she was reeeally quiet, the person wouldn't notice her, right? She was good at being quiet. It shouldn't be too hard. She watched the light from her hiding spot behind the plant, eyes squinted and finger pulling at her frizzy hair. Whoever was in there didn't seem to be leaving anytime soon, and she wasn't the most patient girl anyways. She began her journey over to Mama's door, stepping lightly from tile to tile while avoiding the cracks (for fear of any back-breaking that might occur as a result). It was nerve-wracking for a little girl, being this quiet so late at night. The Funny Feeling wasn't any help. She hoped Mama would know how to fix it. Could Mama fix anything, chained up to the wall as she was? Maybe not, but she was already all the way downstairs...

Perhaps she shouldn't have let herself become so lost in thought. Distracted, she tripped over herself and fell on the floor with a very audible thump. The humming stopped. Lucy gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. Her grip on Bunny's paw grew tight.

From within the room, she heard the squeaking of the person getting up from their chair. She shifted nervously. What would she do now?

Shoes clicked against the floor as the person walked towards the door. Panicked, Lucy shuffled over to the wall-but that only made more noise.

She heard the person breathe deeply, and clear their throat with a cough. "Hello? Is anyone there?"

She knew that voice. It was Gwen. She wasn't sure if she was relieved or even more terrified. She didn't hate Gwen, because she knew the woman had helped take care of her when she was very little and was trying to do so again now, but she couldn't quite like her. She certainly didn't want to be caught by her Papa's assistant so late at night doing something she knew Papa didn't like. But there was Gwen anyway, outside the door, trying to click on a flashlight. Lucy flinched as the woman turned it on. In just a few seconds she would be in the spotlight, and Gwen would know what she was trying, and then she would probably get a lecture-

"Lucy?"

Awesome.

XXX

Gwen really shouldn't have been surprised to see Lucy down here so early in the morning. Of all the people in the building besides herself and Davis, Lucy had the best reason to venture down to B7: her supposed "friendship" with the Queen. Still, she had to wonder why the girl would try for a visit at-she glanced at her digital watch-3:23 AM.

She knelt down to the girl, who hadn't yet bothered to give her a reply, and waved. "Hi," she said as sweetly as her tired voice could manage. "What are you doing up?"

Lucy looked to draw a blank for a second, before quickly stammering, "I-I wasn't feeling well."

Huh. She decided it was her responsibility to pry. "And you thought a trip downstairs might help?"

The girl gulped, and squeezed tightly on her toy. "I was looking for someone."

Gwen already knew who. Maybe it would be best to just give the girl a break. She wasn't even eight yet, after all. "Your father?"

A pause. "...Yeah."

She smiled. She really did like Lucy, even if the girl didn't like her back. That was a problem she seemed to have a lot, in her life. "Would I do?"

Lucy looked around a bit, biting her bottom lip with crooked teeth, and muttered "I guess."

Good enough.

"Well, why don't we hang out together then," she said. "I've got some pencils and paper. You could draw."

"Okay."

She led the girl into the monitor room by the hand, entering with a dramatic "Ta-da" and seating herself in the computer chair. "This is where it all goes down. Private eyes, you and I." She grinned. "Not really. All we do in here is watch a screen for hours. But as long as I get paid, I'm cool with that."

Lucy took a cursory glance around, marveling at the various intercom stations and the numerous button-covered panels lining the monitor wall. "Fancy," she said. "I don't understand any of it."

Gwen smiled again, more genuinely this time. Was the girl finally starting to warm up to her, after all these years? Rather sudden, but better late than never. "You don't have to understand any of it," she said with a chuckle. "You're not the one working it."

Lucy actually gave her a grin. Closed-mouthed, but it was something. "Maybe one day."

She couldn't say she hoped for Lucy to walk in her father's footsteps as an employee to Weyland-Yutani, because bad things tended to happen when you were, but Lucy was little and she could dream whatever she wanted. So Gwen put her hands on her hips and sighed, "Yeah. Maybe one day."

Lucy sat down on a stool in the corner, and settled her plush rabbit on her lap. She winced, almost unnoticeably, and coughed.

Oh, right. She had said she didn't feel well. Gwen had completely forgotten.

"So, Lucy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a cold, I think."

"Oh. That stinks."

She pursed her lips and patted her hands on the arms of the chair. It was had to talk to kids.

"About that coloring I mentioned earlier... let me get you some paper. Would you like printer paper or...?"

Lucy wasn't listening. Her gaze was plastered to a monitor, six to the left and three down. The Queen's monitor. Shit, she had forgotten to turn it off!

"Is that M...is that the Queen?"

She took a deep breath. This could get sticky. "Yeah."

"Is she okay?"

"...Yeah."

"She looks sad."

She shrugged. "Maybe. I don't know."

Lucy gave her a look of contempt she didn't think could come from a not-yet-eight-year-old. "You don't think she even can be sad, do you?"

"I didn't say that."

"You were thinking it." She was squeezing the arm of her rabbit again, brow furrowed in apparent disgust.

"Lucy, please calm down."

"Well, you were. And I don't like it."

Gwen thumbed the handle of her now-empty coffee cup, contemplating what to say next. Little kids could be very sensitive. Say the wrong thing and you would be stepping on a land mine. She decided to go the safest route she could think of.

"How do you think the Queen is feeling?"

XXX

Lucy didn't like the way Gwen talked about Mama. She didn't like the way she couldn't even say "Mama" around her. She didn't like this at all. But Gwen seemed to be trying now, at least, so she could appreciate that a little. At the woman's question, she looked down.

How was Mama feeling?

How was Lucy feeling?

"She's hurting inside," Lucy said. "Like she's all twisted up."

It took a while for Gwen to take that in. The woman tapped her pen on her lip, and nodded her head slightly before answering, "Do you think so?"

This was just getting insulting. "Yes. I do."

"Hmm."

"What?"

Gwen paused, looking away for a few moments. Trying to come up with something nice and sweet to say, probably. Normally she wouldn't mind, but from Gwen it just made her go all blech for some reason.

"Lucy, have you ever thought that maybe-and hear me out on this-maybe the Queen is just a wild animal? She's a wild, vicious predator, Lucy. I don't think she feels things like we do."

Oh, that was it. "Are you calling her dumb? She's my friend."

"No! Nononono. I'm not calling her dumb. She's actually pretty... dang smart. Just, maybe she's not, like, how do I explain this... like the people kind of smart. You know."

"No." Lucy glowered at Gwen, gritting her teeth. "I know what she's like, and she..."

"She what?"

"She's my friend."

"You said that, Lucy."

"Well, she is." She pouted, crossing her arms and looking away. Mama didn't seem happy on that monitor. She had never really seen Mama happy, but now especially. What was wrong? What had made her so upset? Did one of the scientists give her rotten meat again?

No, it was something worse. She felt it, herself. Mama was afraid. And it wasn't because of any food poisoning. But asking Gwen would get her nowhere. What should she do?

As she sat, thinking, for several minutes, her eyelids began to droop. No, not now, she thought; I have to think. But as Gwen tapped away on her computer and the clock tick-tocked the seconds by, Lucy felt herself falling asleep.

Whatever the problem was, surely it could wait until morning.

XXX

Lucy awoke, for the second time in so many hours, to Gwen tapping her on the shoulder.

"Wake up, Lucy. It's 8:30. I told your father you're down here but you should probably get going anyway."

She rubbed her eyes and groaned, sitting up from her awkward slumping position on the stool and kicking off a blanket that she swore hadn't been there before. "Mmmnnn... Gwen?"

"Yeah." The woman smiled. "I've got to do some important things this morning with your dad. Why don't you get going, okay?"

Lucy grunted absentmindedly. "Mmkay." She scooped Bunny up from where he had fallen on the floor overnight, and headed out.

Halfway down the now-brightly-lit hall, a thought occurred to her: since she couldn't visit Mama right now, why not watch her over the monitor? That was a good idea. She rang the elevator button, waited for it to close, and then ran over to the potted plant again. Now Gwen would think she had left, and could leave herself. Soon enough, the woman had gone upstairs in the other elevator, and the security room was wide open. (Gwen frequently forgot to lock things. But the security room wasn't that important, since there was another one on the top floor, she figured. It didn't matter.)

She reentered, and sat at the big, comfy computer chair this time. This was cool. She felt important, in that big spinny chair with its adjustment levers and squeaky wheels. She looked over to the monitor. Mama was still chained up, like she always was, sitting in the corner. Lucy could hear her breathe over the audio feed. About twenty minutes later, she heard something else, too.

It sounded like... it sounded like footsteps. Was someone going to see Mama? These weren't from inside the room, though; she heard them outside in the hallway, the heavy footsteps of combat androids ready for battle. She quickly closed the door as they passed, so they wouldn't find her. A few moments later, she heard another door slam shut and lock with a click.

Now she could see the androids on the security monitor, and could get a better look at them. They stood in the observation room, unfinished faces skull-like and glowing with reflected light off metal, clutching gigantic guns with thickly-gloved hands. The guns were dull green, and had large canisters of oil at the bottom. A smaller tube extended out towards the front, and was tipped with a blue flame, like on a candle...

She pleaded to the monitor: _don't go in, don't go in, don't go in, don't go in..._

They went in.

Oh, God. Oh, _**no**_.

"Xenomorph target acquired."

And flames burst from the guns, covering Mama-_**her Mama**_-in a blazing inferno, red and yellow mixing with blue to form the ugliest rainbow she'd ever seen in her entire life, and she screamed but no one could hear her.

Mama screamed too, and everybody could hear that, but they didn't care, they didn't care... She pounded on the buttons, trying desperately to find something, anything that could help, but nothing worked, of course nothing worked, this was a security room... Could she talk them out of it? The intercom-the intercom-where was the intercom-

Papa was in charge of the Queen. He would stop them, of course he would, Papa would save her-

No, he wouldn't. The androids didn't listen to anybody but him. They didn't do anything unless he asked it.

He wanted this.

Where was the intercom-

XXX

To think the Mother had told herself she was ready.

As the fire engulfed her, she screamed like she never had before-because it hurt. Oh, it hurt so much. She told herself "_in out in out_" all night, and now she was grateful for it, because the smoke was coming through the air and pluming all around her and she couldn't breathe. She hacked and coughed and sputtered, trying to hold in as much air as she could, but her lungs ached and her body burned and she was dying. She was going to die. As much as she prepared herself for it, she couldn't believe it. She was going to die.

She couldn't move, couldn't touch the damn synthetics with her burning hands, couldn't do anything. It was so slow, damn Davis had to make it so slow...

Was this what her children had felt when they were dying?

XXX

Like the screams over the audio feed Lucy's button-mashing had risen to fever pitch as she frantically searched for the intercom. She knew it was red, she knew it was red. Okay. There were only like a million red buttons, okay, just narrow it down to something, check the wires for connections, anything... Where was a speaker? A microphone? _Anything_? There was bound to be a microphone next to the intercom button-it was probably somewhere towards the front for easy access-was there even an intercom button in this room? Oh, for the love of everything, there had to be an intercom. Please let there be an intercom.

Just as she was about to give up hope, she found it: a small speaker, with a small red button besides. She slammed it down and screamed into the speaker:

"Mama!"

Massive head turned, crowned with flames. Mama heard.

XXX

Was this Death? She heard a voice. She heard Lucy's voice. It was scratchy, buzzing with an ethereal quality like from some other world-

No. Static. It crackled with static. That was the intercom.

Lucy was calling for her.

She was a Mother, and her child was calling.

Suddenly she felt she could move. Yes, despite the fire trying to eat its way through her leathery skin, she felt movement, and she lifted her head up and _**roared**_, loud and strong and fierce despite the ash in her lungs and the char in her throat. After that she held her breath and _pulled_.

She hadn't put in this much effort since the day of her capture, when the world fell down and tried to hold her back. It succeeded this time. It wouldn't again. She pulled and pulled and pulled-everything ached, her mind and her body and her heart-she pulled with strength she had forgotten she had, strength that surprised even her. She heard Lucy over the intercom:

"Please stop! Don't hurt her!"

The synthetics didn't respond, dirty nasty things that they were, but she did. She wouldn't let them hurt her, she thought, if Lucy could hear her. She pulled. She roared. Her legs strained against the chains binding them to the wall.

Her tail broke free first, falling down almost completely before muscle memory kicked in and she held it high, barb pointed towards the synthetics. Now she was armed, and now she could _kill._

She struck down with her tall, impaling the first android and swiping off the second's head, and instantly the fire lightened. Her sides were free now, and she screeched in triumph, whipping the bodies around with mad glee, covering the room in greasy white. The second pair were taken down by the bodies flying into them at high speed, shutting down with the sharp buzz of electronic failure. The fire ceased, and for a few precious moments the world seemed to as well. She could hear the whitecoats in the observation room, hear them panicking over their devices for reinforcements, banging on the outside-locked door to be let out.

Davis might let them go for their incompetence, but she wouldn't.

With one final tug, she broke her left leg free of the wall. Next came the right. Her hands were still cuffed and she hurt all over but she didn't care-she was almost out, she was _this close_, she was nearly there. With unsteady steps she headed toward the observation window and slammed her head against it.

"Get out, Mama! Get out!"

She relished the panicked yelps of the whitecoats and kept ramming into the window, hissing with laughter at each new crack that appeared. She felt the adrenaline pumping through her-felt her head spin, and the world with it-she was almost out, almost free! Almost out, _almost free_!

The window shattered into a million sparkling pieces. The broken wall was beautiful.

She climbed out, shoving her massive frame through the window and landing on all fours outside, her smaller arms dangling limply in their cuffs.

The whitecoats shivered, holding each other close as she approached. She made a show of taking her time, rising to her full height and letting out a bone-chilling snarl. She scared them. She loved scaring them. Oh, how she ached to _**kill**_.

She rent each defenseless whitecoat into two, twisting their bodies until they split and coated the ground in red. Turned out her hands were still useful when cuffed. What a tragic oversight on their part.

"Mama-"

She shot out her inner mouth, piercing their stone-dead skulls and swallowing the matter inside. It tasted _sweet_.

"_Mama_-"

Then she stabbed them some more for good measure, sliding the barb of her tail through the entrails and cutting everything into little tiny bits, small enough for a hatchling to swallow whole if she had any left-

"_**Mama**_!"

She grabbed hold of the crack in the metal door and, with great effort, pulled it open. It squealed like it was in pain.

She was in the hallway now, where she couldn't hear the intercom. She had to duck for the low ceiling, but she didn't mind. She was out of the room, out of her cage, for the first time in forever! She ran down the hall, filling the air with her screeches as the remaining fire lapping her skin waned. Where was Lucy? Where was Lucy?

There she was-she had run out from some room into the middle of the hall, and was right in front of her. She might have run the girl over, if she hadn't seen her just then. She knelt down to her charge and purred, more genuinely than she ever had before.

_/Thank you, Lucy./_

"...yeah..."

_/What's wrong?/_

But there was no time for thank yous and what's wrongs, because the reinforcements were coming. She could hear them stomping down the stairs-her only route of escape. She scooped Lucy up in her secondary pair of arms, one supporting her head and the other everything else, and took off, exploding through the stairwell doors into a rain of gunfire.

She shielded Lucy with her crest and howled out every last murderous thought that had built up over the last two years, climbing up the stairs with unnatural ease for a creature on injured digitigrade legs. Each soldier she encountered she swatted out of the way, down over the banister and splat onto the ground. She hoped it hurt.

Lucy didn't say a word.

They just kept coming, wave after wave of stupid synthetics following stupid commands and getting killed in the most stupid way possible, pushed over railings and crushed underfoot and charged like the plastic playthings they were. They died, and died, and died, and with each one she realized more and more that she was alive, and she wasn't giving that up anytime soon.

It took a long time, too long, to get to the main floor, but when she did she was ready for it. She was more than ready for it, more than ready for the humans to come so she could _**kill **_them and smell the sweetness of their ugly red blood-

Lucy covered her face with her hands and shivered, but still didn't talk.

Swiping, cutting, bashing, she mowed through the place in her rampage, hands and chest and head covered in a beautiful mix of red and white and green. She was shot, but she didn't care. She could take shots, she could take as many shots as she needed to if it meant she could get out of this horrible place. She kept one arm above Lucy to keep herself from bleeding onto the girl, and stormed on.

And suddenly, _**Davis**_ was there, standing silent in the middle of the hallway, eyes open wide and whole body shaking. A female was there too, hands over her mouth and eyes filled with tears. She chuffed a manic laugh. Was Davis upset? Was he upset that she had crushed his stupid little plans, and his stupid little synthetics, and his stupid little facility? Was he mad? Be mad, Davis, she thought. Be furious. She didn't care. He would never be as furious as she. And that was why she couldn't kill him, not yet-because he wasn't. She didnt just want him dead, oh no-she wanted him to suffer, just like she had.

With one final look at her captors, she burst through the front door, running with all her remaining strength into the forest beyond. As she did so, Lucy began to cry. She didn't have her rabbit with her. Was she sad?

Maybe she was close to Davis, like the woman seemed to be. Maybe she would miss him. But Davis didn't deserve missing. He would hurt Lucy, just like he had hurt her, and so he could not keep her. No, Lucy was all hers now, and she would keep her safe, at any cost.

With red-and-white soaked hands, the Mother held her baby close. /_It's all right now, Lucy,/ _she said_. /It's all right./_


End file.
